


World War Z

by SennaLaureen



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), World War Z (2013)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Crossover, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, and Q is Dr. Quentin "Q" Fassbach, in which James Bond is former MI6 investigator, usual zombie apocalypse warnings apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7478724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SennaLaureen/pseuds/SennaLaureen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond was one of the best investigators of MI6, as he retired due to an injury. Months later the world almost ended, and James was given another chance to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. London

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I took the plot of the World War Z movie, and bent it to accomodate my 00Q obsession. You don't need to watch the movie to understand what's going on.

_This is BBC WS News. Due to the unknown virus the Ugandan government has declared nationwide martial law few hours ago. The U.N. health agency additionally declared alert level six for the regions where the virus has spread to one third of population, and recommends official travel restrictions. The virus is said to make the infected react violently to people surrounding them. Some of the Ugandan neighbor countries recently reported similar cases of people behaving strangely, however nothing is officially con..._

James turned the radio off again, and sighed, leaning back in his seat, waiting for the car in front of him to finally _move_. Usually he preferred to stay up to date with the international news despite having retired, but today was one of those days where he regretted tuning in. The news of all the catastrophes, pandemics, and terrorist bombings started to get to him recently. Not in a _"Why is it happening?"_ way, but in a _"Maybe I could have prevented it, if I didn't retire"_ way.

Not that he was saving the world on a daily basis as an MI6 investigator, but James believed that having stopped a major bombing in the heart of London by investigating a seemingly irrelevant case of terrorist attack in Japan, and a couple of similar cases, counted as at least trying to push back against the chaos that apparently was spreading all around the world. But a few months ago, with a medical report filled to the brim with words like "PTSD" and accompanied by the chronic pain in his recently injured right leg, he retired, anticipating a quiet life under the ever dark clouds of London. What he didn't anticipate was the constant need to listen to the news, and the longing trembling just under his skin, that he should be doing something, anything!

He did try, of course. A mere month after his official retirement he called Mallory and did everything possible to get out of the dull life and back into the military service, but even while arguing he knew exactly that it was in vain, he understood very well that his injury was too severe. They offered him an office job at the MI6 based on his experience, which was even worse than retirement. He refused.

James grabbed his phone and dialed a 9-digit phone number by heart, the number of MI6 Head Gareth Mallory, his former employer and James' friend. His finger indecisively hovered over the last button, as distant screams instantly put him on alert. He closed the phone and looked around: some people were running on the pavement, some found their way between the standing cars - a sign of increased stress level.

Suddenly a police bike tore off his rear view mirror worming its way between James' car and the next line. The policeman didn't even turn around, dangerously speeding up.

James got out, looking after the bike, the woman in the car in front of him did the same.

"Everything allright?", she looked genuinely concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine. Do you know that's going on?" James looked around: the amount of people running from something behind them increased, but he couldn't see anything that caused the panic. The traffic jam and the concrete buildings on both sides of the street suddenly felt like a cage. James climbed the front of his car in hopes to see that was going on.

"Get back in the car! Now!", another distressed policeman stopped his bike next to them, and this time he waited until James and the woman followed his command, before driving away.

James was about to turn the radio back on, as suddenly an explosion ripped through a skyscraper just a few intersections behind, the flames eating at the dark concrete in his remaining rear view mirror. People screamed out, many were already leaving their cars, running in panic in the opposite direction. For James, however, his military instincts kicked in and the world stopped.

Don't panic. Analyse the situation.

If it was a terrorist attack, he needed to find out what was going on, and, depending on situation, offer his help or find shelter. He grabbed his phone and dialed Mallory's phone number. If anyone could answer him what was going on, it was the Head of MI6.

And of course, he didn't pick up.

A big garbage truck thundered past him, mowing the cars out of the way. James was luckily been given the chance to follow and he stepped on the gas, trying to keep up.

The situation went from bad to worse, as another building exploded on the same street, closer this time, and James could hear other explosions from far away, though he was busy avoiding people, as he followed the truck another two intersections. The sound of several helicopters and gunfire cemented his primary goal to be a save place, subtask: getting out of the city. His lucky streak ended, however, as an empty school bus collided with the truck, making them both tumble over and blocking the entire intersection.

With no way of continuing his way by car, James got out of the vehicle, trying to avoid panic-stricken Londoners. A quick glance to the sky - fueled by sheer curiosity rather than military training - revealed several attack helicopters, and at least three black smoke columns in different directions. Quickly calculating the route out of the city, James noticed an abandoned camping van on the other side of the blocked intersection. The street in front of the vehicle was empty enough to be able to drive. And the street led in the direction of the MI6 building.

Primary goal update: reach the MI6 building and find Mallory.

James was already crossing the intersection towards the van before he even consciously finished his train of thoughts. The van was empty, abandoned in haste. He climbed inside and was about to short circuit the car, when he saw them for the first time.

Panic-stricken Londoners were running away from explosions and gunfire, but something in the movements of a group of people far away made James hold on for a second and look closer. The analyst in him memorized every little detail.

They had grey skin, some of their limbs were bent at an impossible angle, or seemed to be cramped, their movements were unnaturally jerky, yet they were incredibly fast. James watched in shock as one of them caught up to a running woman, threw her to the ground, and sunk his teeth in her neck. Immediately after he - _it?_ \- continued running, having lost all interest in the woman. She contorted in pain and just ten seconds later looked exactly like her killer, including movements and speed, with which she started pursuing another running person.

Another one jumped head first, collided with the windscreen of a car two hundred feet left from James' van, and continued to bang his head against the glass. James could hear the distinct screams of people inside.

For one moment James was frozen, shaken to the core by that he saw, despite having seen a lot of things during his service. The crowd came closer, however, and James forced himself to move.

The van started, and he sped up the street, leaving whatever these things were behind. Careful to not drive anyone over, he dialed Mallory with his left hand again, and again he didn't get past the mailbox.

He drove away from the main road and into smaller alleyways, away from the big masses of people and from whatever these... _creatures_ were, feverishly trying to remember which way he could get to MI6-building. Meanwhile his thoughts involuntarily returned to the teeth sinking deep into the flesh, and jerking, unnatural movements...

A sea of abandoned cars blocking the entire street and the pavements finally forced James to leave the van. The alleyway was empty, the screams of people came from the main street to the left. The MI6 building was just around the corner now, and James took off by foot, his phone in one hand dialing the number again.

Mallory didn't answer and after thirty seconds James hung up, concentrating on avoiding any complications on his way, though he didn't encounter any more of the creatures, and the few Londoners he met along the way were too occupied with trying to hide or calling their family to notice him.

The street in front of the MI6 entrance was almost empty. James tried the front door, but it was closed, the armed security inside ignoring him, as they were running from one to another and frantically answering calls. He cursed.

When he retired, he gave up all his keys - physical and digital ones. Without them letting him in, he had no chance to get inside, given that people inside already took precautions against the chaos on London streets. He grabbed his phone again and this time his friend picked up.

"Mallory," the voice was accompanied with background noise.

"Where are you?"

"At the MI6 office! James, we..."

"You need to tell security down here to let me in!"

Mallory hung up, and a few moments later one of the security men raised his head to the entrance, while talking to somebody on the phone. The man hastily opened the door for James, and gestured to the elevator.

"Fifth floor, hurry up!"

James frantically pressed the button. The elevator doors slowly closed, and a calm music started playing. When the doors opened again, Mallory already waited for him, while giving instructions to another employee.

James approached Mallory. "What is this?" he blurted out the most important question in hopes that the Head of MI6 knew the answer.

"We don't know." The answer James was most afraid of. "How close have you been?"

"Face to face."

Suddenly an explosion rattled the building, throwing them off their feet. Some glass windows shattered.

For a moment James felt like he was back in the field, a violent flashback of one of his more dangerous missions overwhelming him. Mallory's hand on his shoulder brought him back, his understanding look grounded James better than any words.

"There are helicopters on the roof! C'mon!" His friend pulled him to his feet, and James followed Mallory to the emergency staircase.

On the roof were indeed two attack helicopters, one of them just took off, another was waiting for them. One of the soldiers gestured for them to hurry. As they climbed inside, the soldier gave James a look, having obviously expected only the Head of the MI6, but Mallory waved him away.

They put the seatbelts on, as the helicopter took off and rose above the city. After having been so close to the chaos, now James could see the destruction from above: people running down in different directions like ants, more buildings on fire than he could count, and the river of attackers running down all streets in northwesterly direction. The black smoke decorated the sky in all directions, helicopters and the flashes of gunfire completed the apocalyptic picture.

He couldn't believe this was really happening. It felt more like a nightmare, something completely outside of the realm of possibilities - and yet here they were, looking down at the destroyed and burning London.

"What about other cities?" James put the headset on, trying to get a hold on reality, refusing to let panic take over.

"We lost Manchester and Bristol. Can't say anything about other cities, we lost contact to them."

"Where are we going?"

"To a Royal Navy vessel off the coast of Ireland. The sea is so far the only safe place right now," his friend looked tired and shaken, and James decided to wait with his questions. The adrenaline in his body was slowly wearing off, and while the helicopter moved over the countryside, he closed his eyes in hopes that when he opened them again it would turn out to be a simple nightmare.


	2. HMS Ocean

"Clear to land, heading 040, wind 060 at five. Follow L.S.O. directions."

James woke up to their helicopter hovering over the _HMS Ocean_ , ready to land, and they were not the only ones. Groups of civilians were accompanied by the soldiers from the landing fields at ten minute intervals. The strict organization was a welcoming sign after the chaos James witnessed in London.

They were accompanied from the landing field, as some men in suits approached Mallory, one of them James recognized as the British Prime Minister. Mallory threw him an apologizing look, and James nodded. Let him have the status update, in the meantime James had the time to look around.

He followed the soldiers under deck, where he found the command center: a large room filled with desks, and lot of analysts and military personnel.

"Carnival cruise vessel Dream has been given permission to join. Twenty seven knots south and closing..."

"How soon are they showing symptoms after contact?..."

"The provisional government currently considers The Isle of Man to be a potential safe zone..."

"Have you recorded any instance where a person was bitten but not infected?..."

"How the hell do I know if Russia's fallen?..."

"Sir, I cannot action that order. Colonel, I'm sorry, but we cannot facilitate an evacuation for you or your men. Sir, there is nowhere to evacuate you to..."

To the right was a big screen showing the world map. Many regions of Great Britain, Europe, half the USA and almost the entire continent of Africa were covered in red, for infected. There were only three green spots, save zones, the rest of the map was grey for unknown. At the bottom of the screen was a bar showing the global population, and it was turning red at a terrifying speed.

"It has already spread to all corners of the globe," Mallory appeared next to James, overlooking the room from the top of the stairs.

"Is anyone doing better than we are?"

"Not as far as we know. It has spread all around the world within hours. The airlines were the perfect delivery system," Mallory looked even more tired, than during the escape from London, and James couldn't suppress a chill down his spine. Whatever they told Mallory in this short time, it made his friend lose hope - something James never experienced. No matter how hopeless the situation was, the Head of MI6 always found a way out, a solution. But now Mallory's eyes were full of fear and hopelessness. And despite his own rapidly growing anxiety, James put a hand on the other's shoulder and squeezed.

"We will find a way, Gareth." James' voice was a lot more confident than he felt, but his military service taught him something important: fight your own fears, and the battle is half won.

Mallory breathed in and out, and nodded appreciatively, then gestured for James to follow.

To the left was a conference table, where men and women discussed something. Judging on their clothes they were scientists. At the head of the table stood a young man in a suit.

"The question that we have got to address is what the hell is it?", the older man sitting across the table didn't even try to cover his anxiety.

"About five percent of the population aren't affected immediately."

"It is viral. It has to be viral. There is no plausible alternative," the young man appeared confident in his belief, no trace of the ever-present anxiety. Not even the skeptical glances of his audience were able to unsettle him. "And like any virus, once we find its origin, we can develop a vaccine. We find it, contain it..."

"That's Dr. Quentin Fassbach," James and Mallory stopped a few meters from the conference table. "He is a virologist from Oxford. He's our best bet at figuring out what this thing is."

"The analogy I keep coming back to is Spanish Flu. It didn't exist in 1918, but by 1920,  
it killed three percent of the world," Dr. Fassbach gave the nearest scientists some documents.

The man next to him didn't even glance at them. "You all read the same email I did, and it said "zombies" !"

He was met with frustrated groans. "Are you completely out of your mind?", the woman opposite to him rolled her eyes.

James turned to Mallory. "Zombies?" It would have sounded absolutely hilarious, if not for the world population counter turning steadily red, eradicating millions of people within seconds.

Mallory turned to face James. "The earliest mention of the word "zombie" was in a memo from Camp Humphreys in South Korea. We haven't had contact with them since. But this could lead us to the origin. If we knew where this thing started, then we'd have a chance of developing a vaccine to stop it," Mallory nodded towards the scientists. "So we send in Dr. Fassbach there to look for the source."

James couldn't cover his surprise. "He's just a kid!" The scientist couldn't be older than twenty five, and the black curls and big glasses made him appear even younger. James calculated his chances of survival at ten percent and his heart skipped a beat, knowing that this enthusiastic, confident and somehow innocent man will soon face the horrors James witnessed on the streets of London.

Mallory gave James a strange look, as if calculating his reaction. A moment later James found out why. "It was pure luck that you came to MI6, James - we need you."

"For what?"

"To investigate the source of this... whatever this is alongside Dr. Fassbach. You are the best investigator we ever had."

Before James could even take it in, as a sergeant appeared at the deck, accompanied by some soldiers. "Attention on deck!" Everyone arose and turned towards him. For one moment the entire room was silent. "At ease!" He was heading towards Mallory and James.

"Mr. Mallory," the two men nodded and shook hands. The sergeant then turned towards James. "So you were MI6' best investigator, before you retired." James already knew that was about to come. "I want to send you in. With a team. Help Dr. Fassbach find whatever it is he needs."

James looked at Mallory. The other man nodded. "I wanted for the circumstances to speak for themselves. To give you all the information, before you agree."

James let out a chuckle. Mallory really did know him best: not only did he know that James wouldn't say no to another job, but he also laid it out to be one of the most important ones given the situation.

The sergeant misjudged James' silence for indecision. "You were on the ground during the Liberian Civil War. Investigated Chechen war crimes. Sri Lanka in '07. Places you and I both know Dr. Fassbach wouldn't last a night in. My guys will get you in, you assist the doctor,  
pursue any leads, my guys will get you out. We do the heavy lifting."

James glanced over to the conference table. The scientists were once again arguing. Dr. Fassbach shut himself off from the others by typing on his laptop. It was clear that he was two steps ahead of his colleagues.

"Does he know about the mission?" James winked towards the scientist.

Sergeant nodded. "He wants to find the vaccine more than anyone, believe me."

Maybe they really had a chance at stopping this apocalypse, if the scientist gets to the source and manages to develop the antidote. James didn't want to admit to himself that he was relieved the man will be under his protection for this mission. He shook sergeants hand.

"I'm in."

"Great. We start in an hour."

~~~~~

As the sergeant left to prepare his men for the mission, and Mallory had to attend to other matters, James approached the conference table. The other scientists left, only Dr. Fassbach was still typing on his laptop.

"Hallo."

Dr. Fassbach jerked his head up in surprise. As he spotted James, his expression closed off, his stance became guarded. People without military training wouldn't have noticed the change, but James was trained to read body language.

"My name is James Bond, but you can call me James. Sergeant announced that we will go to South Korea together in an hour."

The young man regarded James for a moment, before shaking the offered hand. "Dr. Fassbach."

The first contact, though wary, was established, and James took a seat next to the young man, careful to have enough space between them. He wasn't sure that caused the cautious reaction from the man, but if he had to protect him, he had to win his trust, and pushing the boundaries wasn't the right way to do so.

"Have you ever been to a field mission like that?"

"No. That's why you are here." It wasn't a question: he knew that James wasn't one of sergeant's men.

James smiled, impressed. "Yes, that's right. The other soldiers will secure the terrain, but my top priority is your safety, since you are apparently humanity's last chance," the other wasn't impressed by the praise, and James continued, "but I will also help you with finding the source. I'm a former MI6 investigator. You have the inside knowledge of _what_ we are looking for, I will have to find _the way_ to it."

James let the man carefully examine him, before his expression softened and the scientist showed a faint reflection of a smile.

"Sounds like distribution of work."

James smiled. "You think we will find anything in South Korea?"

"Yes, I'm pretty certain we will find something," James couldn't hide his surprise at the answer, which encouraged the scientist to elaborate: "This virus, it's not an epidemic, it's murder, and Mother Nature is the serial killer. No one is better, or more creative. But like all serial killers, she can't help the urge to want to get caught. What good are all those brilliant crimes, if no one takes the credit? So she leaves crumbs. Now, the hard part, why you spend a decade in school, is seeing the crumbs for the clues they are. Sometimes the thing you thought was the most brutal aspect of the virus, turns out to be the chink in its armor. And she loves disguising her weaknesses as strengths."

At the end of his monologue Dr. Fassbach's eyes glowed with passion and enthusiasm again, for the first time around James, and he couldn't stop himself from admitting that the man in front of him was... beautiful.

"I'm sorry, I got carried away," the young man suddenly rose and walked towards the stairs leading to the landing fields.

"Wait..." James wanted to follow, caught by surprise.

"See you at the shuttle," and the other was gone.


	3. South Korea, Part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for the nice comments!

The next time James saw the scientist, the man had changed into the standard military gear. They boarded the shuttle that should bring them to Camp Humphreys. Four of the sergeant's soldiers accompanied them, all experienced men as far as James could judge.

They didn't talk much during the flight. The soldiers sat across from James and Dr. Fassbach. James observed the young man from the corner of his eye: he worked on his laptop, slender fingers dancing over the keyboard, seemingly detached, and only the barely noticeable ticking of the little finger gave away the anxiety the scientist must have felt.

Hours went by flying over European countries. As they reached China, the soldiers took a nap, and so did the scientist. As guarded and cautious he appeared during his waking hours, as innocent and vulnerable was his expression, when he slept. The face of the scientist was the last thing James saw before falling asleep.

"Everybody wake up. We're on approach to Camp Humphreys. Most of the base is dark, and no one is manning the tower. We're running on fumes, so there's really no choice, I've got to put us down. So buckle up."

James sat up and looked through the window: it was dark and rainy, no lights to be seen. Finally, a jerk indicated their successful landing. The passengers collected themselves furthest from the entrance. James and Dr. Fassbach were behind the soldiers, who stood in a formation - two on the left, one behind the other, two on the right, weapons drawn and ready to fire.

Before the entrance opened, James turned to the young man. "Look. We don't know what we're walking into. So we do what they say," James nodded to the soldiers. "If they move, we move. If they stop, we stop. If things were to get crazy, just focus on their boots, focus on their voices, and we'll be all right. If you see something that's important, you call it out and we'll make it happen."

The scientist blinked and nodded, indicating that he understood. In one hand he clutched a gun, the other caught in his curls.

The ramp opened agonizingly slow. Behind it was only darkness and rain, the silence disturbed by occasional distant screeching. James berated himself for holding on to the hope of finding the camp not infected.

The soldiers moved to the entrance, and halted just outside the plane to check the surroundings. Dr. Fassbach was about to follow them, as James stopped him. "Hold up," he was whispering. "Keep your finger off the trigger. Or better, give me the gun."

"What?!" James' proposition had the opposite effect: the man only clutched the weapon tighter, his eyes frantically searching the darkness outside the plane for the source of the screeching and snarling.

James knew he was dangerously near to a panic.

"Listen. It's Quentin, right?..."

Suddenly, the scientist turned to him, furious. "Don't ever call me Quentin!"

James blinked at the sudden outburst. "Okay, how do you want me to call you then?"

"Q." There was no trace of fear in his eyes anymore. He handed James the weapon. "Just call me Q."

James had no time to think about it: one of the soldiers gestured for them to follow. The soldiers now moved further away from the plane in semi-circle, trying to see anything in the dark.

Slowly, their eyes adjusted to the dark, and they could see that was left of the railings and barbwire around the landing place. Corpses decorated the metal. Some of them still moved.

Suddenly, a zombie ran out of the darkness and fell to the ground two feet in front of the soldier, who was quick enough to shoot him. As soon as gunfire filled the air, the screeching increased tenfold and they heard them coming from different directions at the same time. James put his right arm in front of Q, pushing him back to the ramp, his gun in the other, though he was wary to open the fire: in the darkness he could easily hit one of the soldiers. Only seconds later two of them were down, and their right flank was open, zombies still busy with the corpses.

James' training kicked in, and the next few seconds he experienced in slow motion: the frantic footsteps of another attacker from the left, Q's head tuning away from him, and the realization that the man was in his line of fire, blocking the approaching attacker from James' view.

Slender fingers squeezed his shoulder, and James felt the other's weight being shifted onto him. Q's boot collided with the face of the zombie, throwing him back and off balance for the one precious second James needed to grab the man's arm, pull him forcefully back and out of his way. The zombie regained his balance and threw himself at the two men, only to be stopped by James' bullet. The corpse, this time truly dead, but still following it's trajectory, collided with James and made him fall backwards. He landed on the ground right next to Q, who was thrown off his feet by James' desperate attempt to clear his line of sight.

Unfortunately, it was not the only zombie, and the two men soon found themselves surrounded by creatures, and only precise headshots from the left stopped them from biting James and the scientist.

"Friendly! Friendly!" Four unknown men quickly took positions of the two lost soldiers, getting rid of the oncoming zombies with sound-insulated gunfire, giving James and the remaining soldiers time to gather themselves. The attack ceased. "Keep it down. The noise is that attracts them."

James hastily got up, and helped the man up, checking Q for injuries, but the scientist seemed to be unharmed. The leader of the new group gestured for them to follow. "Come on! Let's go! As long as we still can!"

The commander nodded, and they quickly and silently followed the men between the broken pieces of fence and barbwire to a hangar. The door opened from the inside as soon as the group was within five feet, and immediately closed behind them.

The men and women inside wore different uniforms, but spoke American English - they must have been that was left of the Camp Humphreys military base. A woman stopped James and flashed red light into his eyes, then quickly moved to Q, allowing James to pass.

"I want an ammo count, then you reload your mags!" The leader barked orders, before turning to James. "And from you I want to know why I just risked the lives of my men in order to save your sorry asses!"

"We are investigating the source of the virus," James took a hard look into the leader's eyes, expecting disbelief or even mockery, but the man was simply listening to him. "I'm James Bond, I was working as an investigator for MI6. And this is Dr. Fassbach, a virologist. He - we believe that finding the source will help us to develop a vaccine."

A moment of silence, in which the others assimilated the information, was followed by the outburst.

"So you came from England!..."

"Do you know anything about Bristol?"

"What about the States?..."

Eyes full of hope, hungry for good news. James sighed. "I don't know of any place that's doing very well."

A moment of dejected silence was interrupted by one of the soldiers: "That was a nice kick!" Somehow it sounded dirtier than James was comfortable with, and he regarded the soldier with a glare, though the look Q was been giving the man was a lot more effective. 

"A memo was been sent from this installation eleven days ago. It had the word 'zombie' in it. Do you know anything?", as if using the unwanted attention he was regarded with to his advantage, Q stepped forward, looking directly into the leader's eyes.

"It was an email, not a memo. Pretty obvious nobody back home bothered to read it," the man gestured James and Q to follow him.

Down the corridor was a room filled with ashes. Ashes formed like bed carcasses, like arms, legs, torsos, heads. Entire human bodies. The corners of the room were filled with darkness, but an old lamp on the ceiling illuminated the big portion of the room.

The leader stopped in the middle, right next to a bed with an incinerated body. James and Q waited at the door, not daring to touch the ashes.

"Imagine that there's fifteen or sixteen guys in this room. Most of them guards. But all of them were bitten trying to get this man," the leader gestured to the bed, "handcuffed to the cot. Now, our colonel said he was the first one."

James heart skipped a beat, in the same way it did when he had a lead. If this colonel claimed to know that the infected man was the first, he must have had more information about the origins of the infection - the location, patient zero, anything could be useful to them. "This colonel, is he around?"

"Yeah, he is right here," the leader waved towards another incinerated body, of which only the torso kept the human form. James' heart fell.

Q made a careful step inside the room and crouched next to colonel's body, as if the ashes could tell him the secrets the man took to his grave. After a moment James realized that Q was more interested in the colonel's fingers - they still moved, being the only piece of flesh not turned into ashes. Suddenly, he felt sick, and hurried to give his attention to the leader and the first patient.

"The first infected, do you know anything about him?"

"He was the base doctor. Apparently some villagers brought him to a soldier, who went missing before and reappeared in the village with foam at the mouth, and oozing some kind of black tar..."

"Wait, can you be a little more specific?" Q was following the explanation with great interest.

"You kidding me!? I don't even know if the story is true! The only thing I know for sure is that the doctor came back here and started biting his patients."

James frowned. "There must be some records."

"You are very welcome to have a look around," the man pointed towards a pile of ashes in the corner, that resembled a file cabinet.

Q went back to examining the fingers, while James cursed in frustration. "Then the origin could have come from anywhere!" He tried to think of anything that could give them more information, maybe the village... but the chances it was still inhabited were around one percent, and their survival chances, should they try to find it, were even lower.

The leader regarded him with sympathy. "It's a shame you had to fly all the way out here to figure that out." The sentence earned him a furious look from Q, who abandoned his investigation and returned to James' side.

"How did you avoid being infected?"

"You have no idea how much ammo we used that day to hold the infected at bay," this time one of the other men answered the question. "It took us a while to realize that only a headshot does the trick," for a moment he stared at the ashes around him with glassy eyes, then turned around and limped out of the room.

"Is that how you tweaked your leg?" James suspected that Q didn't ask this out of politeness.  

"No, it's been bugging me a while."

The leader left out a chuckle. "They didn't even try to bite him! This prick stands right in the mix, while seven or eight of them turn into zombies all at the same time. But they got no time for him. Biting everything like damn piranhas, but ignoring the shit outta him!"

The men smiled, as they headed back - the story apparently lifted their spirits whenever it was told. 

"The noise, are they drawn to it?" James and Q followed the men back to the hangar. The analyst turned all the information in his head around, trying to find a way out of the dead end.

"Yeah. Sound draws them. Body shots only seem to slow them down. Head shots do the trick, but just to be safe we tend to burn them when we can." 

Nothing he didn't know already. James recalled the scene with the bitten woman in the streets of London. "The ones I saw bitten turned in around twelve seconds. Same here?"

The answer surprised him: "Five or ten minutes," the leader seemed to think before he answered, but the other men nodded, supporting him. James didn't know that to do with the information, but he collected it like precious puzzle pieces.

Q tried to get more out of the men, but their leader made clear that he had nothing more to tell them.

James let out a frustrated sigh and Q turned towards him. "Can I talk to you for a second?" James followed Q into a dark corner between two cells, while the other men continued walking.

"Did you find anything?" James hoped that maybe the scientist picked up clues at places where he simply lacked the knowledge about the virus.

Q took a deep breath, before looking up: "No."

James didn't know he was holding his breath, until the bitter disappointment washed away the little hope he had. God, he hated dead ends!

His feelings must have shown on his face, because Q hurried to continue: "But I'm sure that this is not the end! We ought to find more!"

"Where? The only people who met patient zero are literally ashes, and the others don't know anything that can help us!"

" _Don't you dare!_ " James blinked in surprise. "Don't you dare give up! We didn't come all the way here to give up just because the information wasn't handed to us on a silver platter!" Q's eyes were full of rage and disappointment. "I thought you were the best!"

"It's not the matter of being the best: I know a dead end when I see one, Q! If you and I both didn't find anything, then there is nothing to be found here! We need to return...."

"You promised me to help find the cure when you agreed to that job, and so help me God, you don't have the right to give up before I do!" Q's expression suddenly softened. "Please, James, I can't do this alone, I need your help!", the scientist was pleading, his face open and vulnerable. "I need you," the last words merely a whisper.

James' heart skipped a beat. The scientist was right: the survival of the entire human race depended on whether they find the cure. Giving up so early would be irresponsible at the very least.

"You are right. I'm sorry," suddenly he felt dead tired, and closed his eyes, rubbing his hand over his face. "I will help you find the cure."

Q let out a breath. "Do you promise?", he stretched his hand between them. James took it, looking directly into the other's green eyes.

"I do. I promise."

The scientist nodded, a relieved smile lighting up his face. "Thank you."

For a split second James was completely taken aback, his heart beating somewhere in his throat, as a sudden strange noise coming from behind Q's back made them both jump up in surprise.

"That was beautiful, guys!", the words were slurred, and they soon found out why: the man who came out of the dark shadow in one of the cells, was missing all his teeth except one. "Too bad you won't find anything here. You are looking in the wrong place."


End file.
